Show His Love
by Mido-Sama
Summary: 3x4 (Of course) - Quatre tried to self destuct and failed, all he can think about is the look in Trowas eyes on the monitor before he released the button. But Trowa couldn't ever feel the same way. Slight angst, but its not a terrible loss.


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Show His Love

By: Mido-Sama

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Just a little collaboration of ideas. 'Illness' is a really sad story, and its hard to write, because I want it to be good, so I took a break with this quickie.

"Trowa?" The blonde called out for the last thing he had seen. He was bewildered; nothing was where it should have been. Quatre reconciled with reality, not wanting to understand the soft warmth of the cushions below him, or the cutting pains surging though his ribs and legs. He lay on the bed, still unsure of the moments before, when his Gundam self detonated. His head ached, his back was bruised, all these new pains rushed through his body, and still he thought of Trowa. 

The brunette had screamed through the intercom not to do it, but it was to late for Quatre to turn back, the button was down, all he had to do was release, and he did. He smiled though, the last few seconds, knowing that there was someone who cared for him, he would die, but not alone. Now where was he? Not dead he noted, or the pain wouldn't be so fierce. Quatre quenched his eyes and tried to sit up, no use. The attempt was unsuccessful, he smiled slightly, obviously so was the self-detonation. He wondered if this was how Heero had felt, silly, unexcused, like a failure, in many ways. Now he cried, not sobs, but tears drifted from his shut sapphire eyes unto the pillow bellow him. Again he thought of Trowa. He remembered the stale look of fear in the perfect emerald eyes. Trowa was scared. Quatre wondered of what, that he might die? No, Trowa didn't feel that way for him, no one could. But there was a look of concern, loss, and helplessness in his beautiful eyes. They had seemed so dark. Quatre imagined them again, were there tears? Yes. Maybe Trowa did care for him more then he thought, no. Quatre was certain it was something else, like the lack of a fifth Gundam Pilot. He shook his head. It ached. If only Trowa did love him. 

The door opened silently, Quatre wasn't sure if he was in the hands of OZ, or his fellow pilots, he didn't care. Footsteps were not audible coming to the side of his bed, but the presence of another was felt. Quatre kept his eyes shut, not out of fear, or cowardice, out of knowledge that whomever it was would either not be very happy with him, or laugh at his poor attempt to destroy the OZ stations radar. He wanted the visitor to speak, so he could at least recognize a friendly voice, if that was what it was. But instead a hand gently brushed Quatre's pale cheek. The touch was cool, and comforting. Quatre wondered who would touch him this way, but held his eyes shut. The hand slowly made its way to Quatres eyes, and seemed to delete the streaks of tears that must have remained. Quatre sighed and the hand was quickly taken away. The boy sighed again, he should have known it wouldn't last.

"Why?" One voice whispered an echo in the room; Quatre tired to get swallowed into the magnificence of that singular voice, and not the question. He wanted forever to hear its strength and possessiveness. "Why?" It asked again. Quatre could hear the body sit into a chair.

"I had to destroy the radar-" Quatre's voice was raspy. He choked a bit on the words.

"And you didn't think of anything else?" The voice seemed hard, and hurt. "What about the other pilots, or your sisters?" Yes, the voice was very hurt. Quatre felt like exploding for making this beautiful voice ache, he wanted to cry so badly for making the boy before him feel any pain. "What about me, Quatre?" This time, as to not be heard by the injured blonde, the voice was lowered. He heard a sniffle, was the voice crying? Quatre opened his eyes, the lights stung them slightly, but he kept them open. Yes, it was Trowa, and yes, there were tears; Tears that he had caused, marking the perfect face. Quatre looked deeply into the wounded eyes. He cried, he had done his best to hold in the grief that flooded his body for harming Trowa, he could hide it no longer. Tears rushed out of his eyes, making new paths on his cheeks.

"I didn't think you cared." Quatre stuttered through raspy breaths, and gave the truth. He never thought that, even in his best dreams, that Trowa could ever care about him.

"Well, you were wrong." Trowa was angry, yet understanding. He wiped away the few tears that fell from his own eyes, and then looked back at the blond who was still held an expression of grief. "Don't cry again." Trowa knelt by the bed and ran his hands through Quatres hair timidly. The blonde was still crying, and shut his eyes so to memorize only the touch of Trowas hands though the thick hair. 

"Why." He wondered what there was to make his tears cease. 

"Because," Trowa continued to answer Quatre question. "I- I love you," Quatres tears seemed to cease at the words. He searched himself to be sure he had heard them correctly, and he was certain that he had. The blond gave a small, friendly laugh and smiled. He looked up into Trowas searching eyes. 

"I love you too Trowa." Quatre tried to move towards the brunette, but gently Trowa stopped him, knowing his injuries had not healed as their hearts had in those few minutes of confession. Trowa didn't leave the boy, he would _never_ leave the boy. For now, he had to show his love. 

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I wrote, you read, now review!

Thanks!


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